Put Out the Light
by Special K the Great
Summary: He hungered like he had never hungered before, and the scent of the youth called to him like a moth to a flame. He had to have him. He had to possess him. He had to take him. There was nothing he could do to resist the siren call of the youth's blood.


**Explanation-- **Written after an RPG with my best friend. The victim here is one of my characters. His name is Vindemiatrix Marius-Black, but that really isn't important here. If you have read the Vampire Chronicles, then the vampire will be known to you. I borrowed him with every intention of returning him before he's missed... Umm...what else? Oh yeah. I fudged facts to fit the storyline my friend and I were working on, so just nod and smile at the total alternate world-ness of this piece.

Disclaimer: Most of it is not mine. I wish. the victim, however, is mine.

Warnings: Lots of hints at slash. If you don't like it, then don't read it. Also this is a vampire story, what do you think it entails?

One last thing, then I'm done; I promise. This is my first time posting a story, so please give me some feedback. Does it suck? Is it half decent? What can I do better? You know. Constructive stuff.

**Put Out the Light**

Black hunger curled in his stomach with constant screams to be filled. Something buzzed in his head, whispering sinisterly. His fangs _ached_. He needed to feed.

The tragic, sweet aroma of a youth caught between child and man danced in his senses; it was so tragic because it held the promise of what the youth had yet to achieve, and the dark threat of his demise.

He wanted the youth. He had to have him.

It wasn't difficult to find him. He could smell the youth had lain with another, and so he followed the primal scent of copulation to where the youth rested. He was alone…

The youth, foolish, foolish, and utterly desirable, beckoned him into his chamber, falsely believing him to be his lover.

Candles were lit around the room, casting a soft, warm glow. The youth lay in his bed, red satin sheets low on his narrow hips. The bare skin, so delicate, was every inch, perfect cream. A feast was laid out before him.

The youth was between the world of wake and sleep. Slowly, as not to startle his prey, he glided closer to the bed.

The vision laid out before him could steal a man's breath. The skin was not only even pale, but also nearly hairless; the little body hair on the youth's arms and back was colorless and down-like. The youth's hair was long—down to the mid of his back—and rich and dark, dark black. In the candlelight navy blue, raven violet, and dark auburn glimmered in the strands—natural highlights, not dyed. It formed a sort of halo of inky dark around him, with smooth waves, and it seemed like it would be soft to the touch.

The youth's face was turned away from him, so he could only see the youth at a profile. He was pretty…very, very pretty. The youth's jaw and cheekbone that was visible was sharp and angled, yet still delicate. The nose was well defined, aristocratic, and turned upward slightly still. Thin, almost translucent eyelids hid the youth's eyes as thick, full eyelashes long like a girl's graced his cheeks. And the petal soft lips! They were ever so gently pouted like sleeping babe's.

His eyes traveled downward, away from the youth's face, to the long and graceful and swan-like neck. He could see the blue veins and arteries the youth's liquid life pounded through under the almost transparent skin. He could see the veins pulse along to the slow, relaxed beat of the youth's heart. His tongue slipped out to like at his lips. How he wanted him…

His eyes kept traveling farther. While not tall, the youth was very slender, making his torso and limbs seem long.

If he was a Botticelli angel, then the youth was a Greek nymph; innocent…a virgin nymph, only not. Another's scent—spicy and musky—clung to the youth. High on the youth's neck by the end of his jaw was a dark bruise—a mark of passion. Over the youth's hip were several small, oval bruises left by fingers. Green jealousy gnawed at him, demanding he claim the youth as his own.

Slowly and gently, he slipped onto the bed behind the youth and pressed against him. Carefully so he didn't harm him, he ran his fingers through the youth's fine hair and nuzzled his cheek against the top of the youth's crown. The hair was just as soft as it had looked. The youth hummed contently.

Like a lover he wrapped as arm around the youth's waist.

"_Your hands are cold,"_ the youth mumbled, still not fully aware.

This brought a smile to his lips. He would not be cold for long…

He brushed aside the youth's long hair from his neck using his nose, allowing himself to nuzzle the youth's flesh. The youth arched his back against him and leaned his head back, baring all of the slender column of his beautiful neck to him. Pleased little gasps left the youth as lips replaced the nose, gently nibbling along the white, delicate skin.

"_You're being affectionate,"_ the youth whispered, trying to turn toward him, but he halted the youth by pressing him down onto the bed. _"So that's how you want it,"_ the youth continued, his voice teasing.

He kept nibbling at the youth's neck. That dark, sinister thing whispered in his head, demanding to see black fear in his prey's eyes.

Faster then the youth could every hope to follow, he flipped the body under him around so they were now chest-to-chest.

Grey eyes went wide as the youth saw him and not his lover. _"Armand?"_ he gasped, shocked._ "What are you doing?!"_

Before the youth could resist, he had the youth's wrists pinned above his head with one hand. The other hand pulled the youth's neck back by the hair. With a surgeon's skill, he had lunged forward and slashed one razor-sharp fang across the youth's larynx, non-lethal, but insuring the youth could not cry for help. He could only gasp out and whimper in pain.

Now, there was the black fear and dark purple confusion, but where was the red blood? He wanted to savor this one.

In a mockery of a lover's embrace, he slowly breached the youth's body, biting into his neck. The youth thrashed against him, but could never hope to over come his super natural strength.

The blood! Oh, the blood! It was sweet, sweet and powerful, and it was pure life. He took this one slowly, letting the youth's heart pound the blood to his waiting tongue. He rocked the youth as he feasted, rocked him as he was certain his lover had, and all the while the youth succumbed more and more. The thrashing had all but halted. The youth's breath was shallow, barely there at all.

Completely satisfied, he pulled away, releasing the youth.

The sinister whispering was gone, sated, and it was then he realized what he had done.

The youth he had just devoured the life of was one of his master's mortal family, his young granddaughter's son. He was still beautiful, and just clinging to life. Weak and lethargic, the youth turned his head to the side, hiding his immortal kiss. The eyes were still open, but the grey pools were blank and dull. The black hair was just as lifeless, shining now only like coal in the gold glow of the candles. The cream skin was now pure snow white, and the red sheets, red like the blood he had taken, twisted around him. Grotesque and horrid, it was more beautiful than the very face of God.

"Lord, what have I done? What have I done? Why!" he cried out. The youth's life would end because of him. He had taken too much for the youth to survive for long, and even the smallest drop of his own blood would be enough here for the Dark Trick to bring the youth into eternal life under night. The youth would die.

Licking his fingers, he snuffed the nearest candle. A shadow fell over the youth's face, the once pink lips voicelessly forming words and nonsense.

Unable to stop seeing the blank eyes, he stumbled away from the youth and the room, unaware of any or anything that may have crossed his path.

Dawn was coming.

It was coming with its red, its orange, its yellow…

And its gold.


End file.
